Title: The Wooden Toy.
Fandom: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland.
Rating: General.
Length: 1072 words.
Content notes: None.
Author notes: Written for the amnesty challenge at fan_flashworks.
Summary: During the day it was far easier to forget, yet at night memories of the children she'd lost haunted her.


Candlelight flickered throughout the room, casting shadows upon the further reaches while illuminating the area the sorceress sat quietly. Her mind was not fully on the moment; at one time the silence may have been a welcome change at the end of the day but now it simply reminded her of all she had lost. Everything that had been taken in a mere few seconds, right before her eyes.

Slender fingers trailed along a toy horse she held, the wood just as smooth as the day it was made save for a couple nicks it had suffered from years of play by her sons.

Her three brave, beautiful boys who had each found such delight in the wooden horse her father had carved the oldest when she had told him she was expecting. Lips curving upwards into a wistful smile, it was the one animal he could think to make that both a son or daughter would delight in.

Amara sighed as she turned it over in her hands, the wooden creature had been taken care of well by her oldest. Taj was always careful with his things, his cautious nature always struck her as strange but then she likened it to her own brother who had died shortly after leaving his childhood behind of a fever.

For all his mindfulness, her dear brother couldn't ward off the effects of illness nor could any of the healers her parents had consulting either.

Passing it down to Cyrus, the second born, had been interesting. It had been rather sudden, Taj had simply thrust it into the toddler's hands with a muttering of 'for you', and walked away before he could see his little brother's eyes light up at the gift. Centuries later, she still wondered if it had something to do with how the oldest terrorized the other with stories of monsters, and worst of all, snakes, that would come in the night and rid him of annoying little brothers.

It hadn't been so much a gift, but a way to keep him from using his new found language skills from tattling on him. Not that it mattered, Amara had been well aware of Taj's antics. The mystery was an easy one to solve when Cyrus would come toddling to her in absolute terror, pointing to anything that happened to be around to do with snakes.

The toy was well loved, one of the few items she had left as a reminder of that life. When Cyrus had finally given it to Rafi, it had been a little less as a peace offering and more to comfort him as their father had up and vanished a day or two before. Taj and Cyrus, both seven and four respectively, knew the man wasn't coming back. Rafi had only been a year old at the time, and often cried for his father later into the night.

Cyrus had crept into the room the one night, and gave him the wooden toy. Amara had never heard what story he'd told, having come upon the scene a few minutes too late, but it always brought a smile to her face. At least it had been a better way for her two children to deal with it than when she'd found Taj using a few of the toys their father had given them to keep the evening fire going.

People could say what they wanted of her children, but they were good boys. Taj was a little too serious, Cyrus far too much for trouble and Rafi unsure of where he wanted to be in life before it had all fallen apart, but they were good boys and she'd done the best she could alone. The one lesson she had taught them was family always, and forever, came first.

Perhaps that was why they'd stolen those waters, or it was Cyrus' guilty conscience at play. Amara had heard the tale of how he'd angered those men, still she knew Taj and Rafi well enough to realize no matter what sort of guilt Cyrus may try to use to get them to comply with his plans, neither would if they were not in agreement.

They had risked a lot to save her, not realizing fully the consequences of their actions. At the very least, Cyrus had not. He had always been one to throw caution to the wind and toy with fate. Her head fell forward ever so slightly as she set the wooden toy aside on the small table next to her bed, remembering the look on his face just before he'd vanished into an orange mist.

The other two had been distressed, he on the other hand, she could already see the guilt in his eyes.

Her boys had done everything for her, and one day she would have them back. She would find the bottles and lamp that imprisoned each of her sons and keep them safe with her. No one would tear her family apart again.

A light knock at the door dragged her out of her musings, an almost welcome distraction from the fact it was always at night she wandered into her memories. During the day she could pretend her sons were out, it was night when she knew they were lost to her. Soon though, she reminded herself as she quickly walked to the door and opened it.

Her surprise didn't show on her face, at least not much, when she saw who stood there. Small, angry and possibly a little afraid by the look she levelled him with. Which was probably for the best as she cared little who she hurt now, with her sons gone she couldn't care less about anyone in the city. What would they think of what she'd become? A question that could be answered when she located them, for now there was a far more important one, and she would have an answer.

Why the boy from the marketplace would seek her out, of all people, was beyond her. Surely he knew as well as the next what terrible things she was capable of, yet he had stood and met her gaze that morning.

Maybe, she mused while glaring at him, he could prove useful in finding her children. He may be a little boy now, but she was an immortal sorceress. She had all the time in the world to find her sons turned genies.